


Unprecedented events

by paupotter_4869



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paupotter_4869/pseuds/paupotter_4869
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The regulations requiring a single Victor have been suspended. From now on, two victors may be Crowned if both originate from the same District. "That's likely", grunts Peeta. </p><p>Starting off when Peeta saves Katniss after the tracker jackers event, Peeta's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unprecedented events

“What are you still doing here? Are you mad?!” I shout in disbelieving horror. I have to forcefully stand Katniss up, let her rest against a tree and point her in the right direction to run towards. She looks completely confused and not only because of the bees’ sting. Doesn’t come as a surprise, though: it’s easier to believe a single betrayal than a double deception. I hear footsteps approaching and I realize there’s no time to explain to her it was simply a strategy to keep her alive a while longer, as we agreed to do, as I promised to try towards my lifelong love. Can’t really blame her for trying to kill me, though I’m not returning the same courtesy to her: I’ve got a mission here, one I’m willing to pursue as long as I last. 

I push Katniss towards the woods and, probably in automatic moves and directives, she starts running, or tries to do so in really clumsy steps. If I don’t buy her more time, she won’t get too far. That’s when Cato shows up, couple of stings on his face magnifying to impossible levels his traits, his favorite knife on his hand, at the ready and looks directly to the direction where Katniss has run towards. I embrace myself, praying to have just the strength to distract and stop him enough time so Katniss can get someplace safe, if such a thing exists in an arena. 

 “You bastard--”, starts insulting Cato, looking at me outraged, but it seems he doesn’t have the energy or the patience to finish the sentence, as he raises his knife. We both know I’m single-handed and thus, without a chance to win this battle; the Careers didn’t trust me enough to give me a single pocket knife, even if I couldn’t have killed any of them. It’s obvious to the both of us that I won’t last long. He looks contempt at the realization, I simply embrace my death. I’ve avoided it long enough since the start of the Games. 

Cato steps forwards and brandishes his knife in a wide arch; I jump backwards to avoid its blade cutting me in half. He probably wasn’t expecting any resistance, because he glares at me with hatred and then jumps over me, knocking us both to the ground, and we roll over a few times. I hold him at arm’s length by keeping my hands on his shoulders; luckily, we’re too close to each other for him to use his knife, but his empty hand, even his left one, still is good to surround my neck and cut off my air supply. I try to scratch him with all my might, with obvious results, and I extend one of my arms to the ground, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. My fingers come across something round, sharp and heavy and I lift my arm in a strange angle, knowing in advance the impact won’t hurt Cato too much. He avoids the brunt, but in order to do so, he pulls his hand away from my neck, and immediately I strike again on his knee. He gets off me, shouting loudly in pain, falling to the ground. I jump up and turn in the opposite direction where Katniss ran to, not wanting to lead Cato to her. I hear the blade of his knife and it scares me so much that I stumble over my own legs and fall again, but I force my body to stand up and keep on running, even when I feel as clumsy as Katniss a few seconds --or rather hours-- ago, and I must be leaving behind a way too easily to follow path, despite the caution of running in zig-zag. Strangley I don’t hear anyone following me, but still I don’t stop until my lungs burn, my legs won’t answer anymore to me and my heavy breathing would have been a clear telltale sign to anyone. 

Catching my breath, I rest leaning in a tree. Only then I dare to take a look at my legs and the gravity of the injury surprises me, not knowing how I could run with this injury. If I wasn’t before, now I’m definitely doomed --I could just light up a fire and wait right here to be killed. It doesn’t seem it’d take too long either way. 

Thankfully or not, I recognize the area. One of the only positive parts of having temporary allied with the Careers; besides getting stung and stabbed, of course. All senses alert should any menace show up, I kneel against the tree, trying to figure out if there’s someone close, and my exact position. I gather the riverbank can’t be too far. Fearing the gravity of my injury, I get up and limp as best and silent as I can towards the muddy shore, where I just let myself slide and get dumb myself from hair to toes, cooling down literally in the refreshing substance, finally allowing my leg get some rest. It hurts like hell and I comprehend I won’t be able to clean it, as the Careers must still be near the river. I’ve actually been lucky none of them have heard me. I know I can’t stay here for long, both for the risk of being found and the chances I won’t be able to stand up again due to my leg, so I get to work: getting my whole body --hair, clothes, hands, face, shoes-- covered with mud. 

There’s this place not even a mile from here where I can perfectly disguise myself once the mud dries. It’s close enough to the woods to get, too, branches, leaves and flowers to use as the ultimate disguise. Almost two hours later I’ve created my hiding place --and what I expect it to be, also my tomb. Seems like a miracle no-one’s appeared yet to kill me, so at least I should set an almost dignifying place to die. Without medical attention --which I won’t receive from Haymitch, as I wanted it to be in the first place-- I have no prospect in healing the wound and prevent the intoxication that will most likely kill me. 

And I’m fine with that. There was little to no chance that I’d survive the Games. I’ve known that ever since my name was called in the Reaping. Being logical, Katniss winning was a hundred percent more probable than me winning. I knew that when I said goodbye to my family. I knew it when we were training against all odds during those four days. As well as I’d accepted this right before we were sent to the arena and asked Haymitch to save Katniss instead of me. She should get all the possible help. After all, back home she’s wanted, and needed, by her mother, her sister and, can’t deny it, also Gale Hawthorne. And if I saved her life so she can fight another day here --well, there are worse ways to die. At least my parents will proudly remember one of my latest actions in life. 

Hidden as I am, there’s no possible way of knowing for certain the time that passes by, but surely is a lot more than I expected, even counting the amount of time I doze off given my exhaustion, the blood loss, the lack of food I’ve eaten and the intoxication that’s certainly spreading through my body right now. I’d assumed the Gamemakers would have finished me off in no time, igniting some fire or something to kill me, or forcing somebody towards my position to the same end. But I don’t thinks anyone’s approached this spot. And I can’t remember hearing an canons or death announcements lately --not since Glimmer. 

Breaking the abnormal silence and stillness, a few hours later there is an announcement; and it’s not the one I was expecting, like an invite to a feast to force us all to kill each other.

“Attention, Tributes. The regulations requiring a single Victor have been suspended. From now on two Victors can be crowned if both originate from the same District.” 

“That’s likely”, I grunt when I’m certain the message is over. In my 17 years --and probably in the past 74 too-- not once, has happened something like this. It’s the same story all over again: they just want a good show. And they’re the rulers of this Games, who can stop them from doing whatever they want to do. Even President Snow may be behind it, to make this all the more interesting. It’s simply never happened before, just like Katniss volunteering back in 12 for her sister, or a girl from 12 getting an 11 at the evaluations by throwing an apple to the judges, or the “Star-crossed lovers from District 12”. It’s just a show. It’s stupid. And in any case, it won’t do me any good, so I better forget it. Katniss surely’ll see it the same way and won’t fall for this trick. She’s a smart girl. 

So I lean again and forget the message, hoping that it doesn’t take too long for me now. I almost want for all of this to end. Next thing I hear --steps. Cautious, silent, slow, swift. As if someone knew I was here and was looking for me. My muscles tense --I have to suppress a growl when I move the injured leg-- and embrace myself. This is it. This is what I was waiting for, yet it isn’t easy to accept. Almost wish to have some sort of weapon with me to fight till my last breath of air. 

Then I see the Tribute. She’s not a Career. She’s got a bow and arrows and her messy hair is tied back in a braid. Goddammit. She can’t be this stupid. Did she actually believe that announcement? Is she here for me? Heaven’s sake, she better be here to finish me off. She’s a bloody hunter, I thought she was a smart girl; seems I stand corrected, from what I’ve seen from her until now. Coming for me is just as stupid as when when she didn’t run straight away from the Cornucopia and was almost caught in the midst of the initial Bloodbath. 

“You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”, I ask against any reason. 

I sense her stupefaction, I hear her hissing my name, looking for me, approaching step by step. “Well, don’t step on me.” She finally finds me, shock written on her face because of my camouflage. While she freaks out, I take a good look at her. She hopefully seems alright, wether by luck, or due to Haymitch’s help. Either way, I’m glad for her. What I can’t stand is that she’s here, that she actually came looking for me. What’s the purpose of me dying for increasing her chances at winning, then? And even if she magically --there’s no other way at this point-- manages to save me, we can’t end up as victors. There’s truly no real way they could have changed the rules, not even the public pressure could save us both. But maybe this will make the audience peak, of course --that’s what they wanted. The star-crossed lovers reunite for the big screen. My God. 

Well, maybe that’s the only thing that can help us now --if Katniss won’t stay away from me, save herself a hell of a problem and let me die. There are so many things I could say to her when she leans close my ear, some of them just stupid: leave me, kill Cato, kill me, get the Careers to kill me, win and get back to District 12, remembering us both it’s just a stupid game. But there’s only one think for certain: we need to keep this charade up. And there must be cameras all over the place filming us, with every spectator glued to their screens, so I choose my words carefully. 

My remark makes her laugh, a sound I’ve not heard since the beginning of the Games --and being truly honest, since much, much earlier--, a sound that gets my heart strength to beat for another day.


End file.
